Pirouette
by macrauchenia
Summary: "She's twirling breathless and fast with him, accompanied only by the earthy scent of the dirt ballroom floor beneath her bare feet and the warm glow of firelight in her untamed, golden hair. Love is a graceful and dangerous pirouette. It is beautiful and it is terrifying." - The gradual evolution of the relationship between Annie Leonhardt and Armin Arlert [AruAni] [DrabbleFic]
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Attack on Titan/Shingeki no Kyojin belongs to its rightful owners. I own nothing.  
><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Alright, well, I was going to post one big old string of drabbles, but I decided to break it up. Primarily because I was so excited after everyone's response to Brave and Kind :)

This first set was inspired by a scene in the second episode. If you notice that at around 15 minutes, 33.05 seconds, you can notice Annie waiting in the breadline. ((If you don't believe me, PM me and I'll show you the picture.))

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><p>The first time Annie Leonhardt sees him, she forgets him instantly. There's no use in trying to create stories for every hollow-eyed child she sees. As the blond slowly hobbles off the ship accompanied by two other children and an older man, she turns her head.<p>

_In a few years, he'll be dead anyway_, she tells herself. His soft hands and watery eyes are not strong enough to survive. She banishes the blond hair and blue eyes from her memory. There's no use in remembering the dead.

.

The second time, she only notices the blond as an afterthought. Her initial focus is first distracted by the boy's loud friend whose mouth stirred up more trouble than Annie particularly likes. She doesn't notice the wide eyed blond until the latter emerges from the hazy background and speaks in a quivering tone, urging the brunet to forget it and leave.

Still barely a child, Annie feels her own personal experience is justified enough to condemn the boy to an early death. Again, she drives the boy from her memory. He's too weak to survive.

.

The third time that she sees the boy, he is smiling. The action surprises and _frightens_ her. Then it angers her.

Who does this boy thinks he is? Why he can smile when they've all suffered through so much? The same brunet laughs next to him and another girl, a waiflike, ebony-haired creature, smiles slightly. The two extremes of childish joy, yet it is the mild blond boy in the center who frustrates her the most. When his bright gaze roves blindly across the crowd, it feels as if his blue eyes purposely rake across her face. She takes a shuddering breath and steps back as if he had made direct contact with her, yet he doesn't notice her scowl or her tensing shoulders. His eyes continue to roam across the faces and she half-wonders what he's looking for.

Annie hates this boy, who sits like an angel between two mortals, and forcefully purges the memory from her mind.

She hopes he dies soon. There is nothing to smile about here. Death will teach him.

.

Naturally, he's a coward, although she isn't particularly surprised to note that his brunet friend is also an idiot. The blond boy's groveling and pleading disgusts her. His earnest pleas fool the soldiers and the boy's pretty phrasing even tricks his friends into feeling gratitude. His words don't fool her.

As the blond turns away from the brunet's grudging thanks, his expression changes for a fleeting second. Self-loathing. Doubt. Embarrassment.

He may have fooled the others, but Annie can see that the boy still hasn't managed to fool himself. He still sees himself as useless.

Annie silently agrees.

.

He never takes off that old hat. Worn and faded, it always rests on his head no matter the weather or time of day. When the boy seems upset or frightened, Annie notices that his trembling fingers reach for the brim when he thinks no one else is watching. She doesn't know why he always wears that stupid hat, but she's slightly jealous that he has something that makes him feel strong and secure.

She has nothing, but she reminds herself that she's strong enough without some ridiculous old _hat_ to make her stronger. Why would she ever want such a useless possession?

.

The hat belonged to his grandfather. He never wears it anymore. She doesn't know where it went.

He is no longer smiling. Annie has won, but she feels far from victorious.

.

When they ask him for his family's name, his lip does not tremble when he announces to the world that he is an orphan and has nowhere to call home. She feels no pity for him. Everyone has lost someone or something to the titans; this boy is nothing special.

Once the enlistment solider moves on to the next child, the boy visibly changes. Gone is the fire and gone is the passion. Annie can see in his blank crystalline orbs that he possesses no real spirit of his own. The rash brunet beside him is the only reason the blond boy enlists.

Humanity doesn't need weak, ceding willow branches—she needs soldiers. He's only going to get in the way.

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><p>I'm following the animemanga in order, so the next set will be about their experiences at training.  
><strong>Hope you enjoy!<strong> Feel free to leave certain prompts that you may want to see in the reviews! I know I still have to work on my drabble writing skills.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **Attack on Titan/Shingeki no Kyojin belongs to its rightful owners. I own nothing.  
><strong>Author's Note:<strong> 1 / "I Don't Know How Many" of the training!drabbles. Please enjoy!

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><p><em>"Armin Arlert."<em>

She silently agrees with the drill instructor: it is a stupid name. She waits for the inevitable: when the boy realizes his grand delusions of humanity and brave soldiers were just that—compromised, erroneous beliefs. His weak body will never survive and his weak mind will never cope. She hopes he gives up soon.

It is better for him to die exhausted and old in the wasteland than young and ignorant in the mouth of a titan. She doesn't want to be present when either happens.

.

His brunet friend fails at maintaining his balance in the maneuver gear. Annie has even less hope for him. She watches with narrowed eyes as the blond trembles and wobbles, panic and uncertainty searing his vulnerable face like a vindictive flame.

And then, as if almost by a miracle, the world comes to a jarring halt and the boy is steady in his harness. Annie is rooted to the dusty ground against her will and their eyes cross briefly before the boy's eyes find their intended target.

Then the spell is broken and the world resumes turning. The blond boy's awestruck expression morphs into a triumphant grin. She hears the brunet's sullen groan to her left. She isn't the only one intruding on the young soldier's moment of personal triumph.

He will not go home today. Annie doesn't know whether to be disappointed or proud.

.

When she slips out of the cabin for a breath of fresh air, she sees him on the opposite porch reading by the flickering glow of his stolen lantern. She could have stood next to him, and he would not have noticed her presence.

She watches the blond read for a long time. Even across the distance in the dim light, she observes the ghosts of joy and fascination crossing his easily readable features. For some strange, perverse reason, the sight is comforting to her.

The sound of the latrine door slamming shatters the mood. The boy jumps, gently closes his book, and blows out the trembling flame. In the darkness, Annie hears the faint creak of the door as he disappears back into his cabin.

Annie returns to her cold bed and closes her eyes.

.

For all of her skill in hand-to-hand combat and agility, Annie realizes after their first lecture session that her education is sorely lacking. She had learned how to read and write as a child, but never did she have the chance to nurture the art beyond the rudimentary skills.

Annie briefly considers asking the eager blond sitting at the head of class for help, but thinks better of it. However, after receiving only adequate marks on their first assignment, Annie fears the possibility of not making the top ten. She convinces herself that if she ever needs something from the boy, she would gain it through skillful manipulation. Not friendship.

.

She always knew the boy was sensible, but as she watches his bright, intelligent eyes roam across the faded paper and his soft lips utter every word with a tender reverence, she realizes that his is brilliant.

Fortunately for Annie, the others latch onto the boy's secret talent and the last twenty minutes of dinner become an impromptu study session every night. At first she sits far enough away where she can only hear every other word. Gradually, she finds herself gravitating closer and closer to the boy's table, until one night she sits down in the seat directly across from the boy. If he notices her sudden presence, he doesn't interrupt his recitation of the basic titan classes to mention it.

When Annie's marks begin to rise, she feels slightly guilty for taking all of the credit herself, but she reminds herself that there are no friends in the Top Ten. It's every man for himself.

.

Annie notices during one of their study sessions that the boy has hardly touched his plate. The dark-haired girl to his right softly insists that he finishes his meal to preserve his already feeble strength. He smiles apologetically, but still refuses the food. He has a hunger for something else entirely. Annie can see it in his eyes as he turns to the next page.

For the first time in years, Annie has found something that the two have in common.

.

_"What are you doing?"_

He freezes and blinks at her in the dim light. He is the epitome of guilt, holding something behind his back with a sheepish expression. His rigid posture softens when he realizes he's speaking to Annie.

"Oh, Annie. I'm, um…" Selecting honesty as the safest option, he reveals the smuggled food in his grubby, upturned palm. A bruised apple and a crusty loaf of bread. She regards the food with a confused scowl. "It's Sasha's birthday today," he explains quickly.

_Sasha? Potato-girl? _The blonde vaguely remembers the girl from the first day of training. She never knew that the two were acquaintances, much less friends. Annie immediately squashes the slight tinge of jealousy creeping across the back of her neck and into her cheeks.

She does not tear her gaze from the motley excuse for a birthday feast for fear of allowing her own expressions to slip. He mistakes her stony silence for scorn and apologizes with a stutter before vanishing.

It is her own birthday is in a few weeks, though she expects nothing nearly as generous as a small, dented apple.

.

When she sulks away from hand-to-hand combat to her usual sanctuary, she halts at the sight of a forlorn book corrupting her location of solitude. More curious than angry at the disturbance, she stoops down and gently lifts up the heavy volume and lightly brushes the cover's faded binding. Annie opens the book slowly and her eyes catch onto a slightly smudged message in the top corner.

_To Annie. Happy Birthday!_

Even without the message, she could have easily guessed the culprit. For a second, she contemplates leaving the book and walking away, but as she traces the boy's loopy handwriting with a hesitant index finger, she decides to give it a chance. Her fingers curl around the worn spine, causing the delicate, stained pages to crinkle. She brings the book close to her chest, hating how fast her heart is fluttering in her rib cage.

She is unable to devalue the gift completely. This is her first and only birthday present.

.

_"I didn't ask for your charity."_

The girl's low growl sounds from behind the boy, causing him to jump at the unexpected company. He takes a physical step back to avoid her stern glare, unsure of how to respond.

He blinks again, "I'm sorry. I thought you would have enjoyed it."

Annie doesn't admit that she has already read the book twice since she found it resting on the upturned bucket.

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading, reviewing, favoriting, following, etc!<strong> I'm really excited for the next set. They were actually the first set of drabbles that I wrote for this story. Similar to how this one followed an arc (books, maybe?), the next one will follow the "dancing" arc first hinted at in the summary/title :D  
>Let me know if there is anything you guys want to see!<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.  
><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Wow, guys. Thank you so much for all of the kind words of encouragement! I really hope this next set doesn't disappoint! I've been waiting to post this arc for a while.

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><p>They have survived their first year of training. A celebration is in order.<p>

Girls who never once before fancied romance now heave lovesick sighs and boys angle their shoulders to imitate the older recruits, trying to fulfill their princess' dreams. The concept of mingling with the opposite gender outside of hand-to-hand combat is baffling and terrifying.

Naturally, a dance is unanimously decided upon during dinner.

Somewhere in the mindless chatter, Annie hears Eren joke about his best friend's swift feet. The blond merely looks up with a meek smile before returning to his book, pink staining his cheeks.

Annie wonders if the boy is embarrassed or proud of his apparent talent. She decides to attend the dance, even if it is just to scoff at the carnival of the sentimental fools.

.

Like hell would she ever dance with Springer, but there is no one else available. As if anyone would ask her to dance.

She watches almost enviously as Eren half-stumbles in circles with Mikasa and Jean attempting to cut in and even Mina manages an awkward shuffle with Marco. Everyone spins in pairs, laughing and smiling under the lantern light, but she is alone. Far from where the warm glow can touch her.

A pale, upturned palm graces her vision and his bright, blue gaze pours warmly into her eyes, thawing her own icy stare. She tentatively reaches for the outstretched palm and curls her fingers around his clammy, soft skin.

The next thing she knows, she's twirling breathless and fast with him, accompanied only by the earthy scent of the dirt ballroom floor beneath her bare feet and the hazy warmth of firelight in her untamed, golden hair.

She sees her reflection in his honest eyes and realizes that she is beautiful and happy.

.

She never wants the night to end, but the hushed music in Annie's head screeches to a jarring stop.

They stop moving, panting slightly with slick, clasped hands. Reality creeps back in and he pulls away first, apologizing for troubling her. He leaves before she has the chance to respond, as if he feared her scorn would bite again.

It is cold out that night. The lanterns have slowly burned themselves down and sputter in the starlight, thirsting for more oil. Annie squeezes her hands together, trying to warm her frozen digits, but they never feel quite as content as they did when they were encased by his gentle, sweaty fingers.

She looks for him in the afterglow of the dying lanterns, but he is nowhere to be seen.

.

She avoids his gaze the next day.

She wants to tell him to never speak to her again. Never look at her that way again.

She wants to tell him that he made a mistake. She isn't that kind of a girl. He has the wrong impression of her.

But when he holds the door for her and their fingertips brush faintly, she doesn't know how to explain that it is she who has made the mistake.

For the longest time, she has lived only by looking through her own eyes. By looking through another's eyes, she knows she can never be content with her own blinded vision.

.

The first dream arrives shortly after the dance.

The moment the boy's soothing smile and pure blue eyes infiltrate her silent, peaceful sleep, she bolts upright in her bunk. The jarring reaction shatters the image and the shimmering image dissipates. Still halfway caught in the dream, the translucent slivers of his golden hair flutter softly through the black expanse in front of her before fizzling out in silence. She is trembling, but she doesn't know whether because of rage or terror.

Although it is still early, Annie has no desire to return to that world. This taunting image of a happiness that will never be is worse than any nightmare.

.

She is wrong.

The blonde clutches her damp pillow to her face, trying to muffle the gasping sobs to keep them from waking her peers. The image of his crooked body and his sightless eyes haunts her and she would give anything to permanently purge this thought from her memory.

She wonders how this boy's fate can torment her so easily. From the moment she had seen his sniveling, huddled form years ago, she began to wish for his death. Now she never wants to see his smile chip or his warm heart snuffed.

Annie Leonhardt hates weakness. She hates him. She hates herself.

.

She finds his second gift lying in the same spot. A crisp, dew-laced flower resting beside a faded, folded note.

_Sorry,_ it says. A single word is enough to drive fury through her veins. Even when he isn't at fault, he still assumes blame for everything. Her fist tightens until a gritty moisture against her skin and a faint floral scent reassures her that the flower's beauty is gone forever. She drops the tattered remnants of the petals and walks away.

.

Sometimes she thinks about the flower. She can't remember what color it was. It may have been the muted sunshine of his hair. It may have been the snowy purity of his smile. It may have been the crystalline gleam of his eyes. She doesn't know.

She may not remember the color, but she remembers the smell. When another girl samples her new perfume during dinner, the familiar, sickly sweet smell turns her stomach. Annie quickly excuses herself, blaming a headache as the reason for her early retreat.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading!<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. Nuuuuuuthing  
><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Whoop whoop! New set of drabbles! This time with a weird focus on eyes (Sometimes it's easier to write a set of connected drabbles when they all follow a similar theme. I hope you agree!).

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><p><em>"Annie, do you know the story of Icarus?"<em>

Torn from her thoughts, the girl frowns at her blond partner on the branch beside her. The boy doesn't look at her as he asks her the question. He stares instead at the faint beams of sunlight streaming through the dark emerald canopy above them.

"It was a story popular in my village," she answers after a pause, "to warn about the danger of arrogance."

The boy is silent for a long while. "I always thought it was about curiosity."

They can't see the sun, but Annie wonders if he still wants to build his wings to reach it after knowing Icarus's fate.

.

Their team wins because of him. He was the one to figure out where Shadis had hid the prize titan and how to fix Reiner's 3DMG when it hit a tree the wrong way. Because of him, the rest of his team has a day off from training for the next day.

The blond gives a startled yelp and then grins widely as Reiner hoists his thin frame into the air and deposits him on the shoulders of an equally startled Bertholdt. His smile is brilliant and Annie mirrors it softly, fighting the urge to conceal the smile with loosely curled fingers. On his lofty perch, the boy is close enough to reach the sun with his fingers splayed in triumphant glee. He is radiant in his joy, beaming brighter than the envious sun. She basks comfortably in his smile, knowing that for the first time, he has achieved something no one else has.

It is his Icarus moment without the fall.

.

On their day off, most of their teammates sleep away their good fortune. He finds her slouching in the shade, doing exactly what she would be doing if they had to participate in hand-to-hand combat. Nothing. He senses her boredom easily, as she can feel it roll off of her in waves.

"Uh, do you want to play a game, Annie?" She regards the boy for a long moment. She can tell he thinks he's going to be rejected.

"What do you have in mind?"

He blinks once in surprise, but a large, eager grin soon spreads across his features. "I was thinking chess!"

Annie shrugs. What's the worst that could happen?

.

She takes his queen. She takes his rook. He has nothing and she corners his king. Victory is inevitable.

She doesn't notice the pawn creeping up the side of the board until it's too late. Nor does she notice her exposed king.

The boy grins wickedly as he exchanges his worthless pawn for a new queen. _Checkmate,_ his eyes laugh. The girl reaches for her king and tips the piece. It bounces as it strikes the cool, checkered surface of the chessboard.

The boy's eyes blaze with a triumphant cerulean. Annie swears to never again play a game of strategy against him.

.

She's a rotten liar.

Somehow, the boy manages to convince her to play another game with him. She is winning throughout the majority of the game; however, when she peeks curiously at his face, she realizes that the boy is only feigning defeat. She can tell by his polite smile that he's intentionally holding back.

"If you want me to keep playing," Annie announces loudly, "then actually play." The boy blinks with a shocked expression, as if he thought she would never have guessed his intentions. _That makes two bad liars. _

Two turns later, the boy hesitates before adjusting the position of his rook.

"Checkmate," he murmurs ashamedly. Annie's guilt demands a rematch.

.

The insinuating whispers soon reach her ears, though she swallows them down with her trained, blank expression. She ignores them and focuses on the chess board in front of her.

_"I bet the only reason they won is because Shadis felt sorry for their pathetic group"_

_"They're _all_ freaks…"_

Annie glances up just to catch the flash of anger flit across the boy's features. His eyes blaze as brightly as before, but the dark shadows in the boy's icy eyes make the hairs on Annie's neck prickle. For the first time, she equates danger with the blond boy.

.

She spares a curious peek in the boy's direction during dinner. He laughs loudly, his lively, blue eyes crinkled in delight at something Connie had said.

Annie nods to herself and looks away, content with what she she sees. His eyes are bright again and it feels as if the world makes sense again. Still, she can't truly eradicate the image of the boy's darkened scowl from her mind. The distorted image frightens her. It finally crosses her mind that they could be more similar than she had ever anticipated.

.

He's talking about the ocean again. His eyes are youthful and wide as he describes the hypothetical tang of salt in the air and the soothing crash of waves against the pristine sand.

The question is out of her mouth before she can pull the twisting, curious words back into her mouth. "What color is the ocean?"

He is so consumed by his fantasy that he doesn't realize who asked the question. "A lot of different shades of blue. When it storms, it's as dark as night," he rambles, "but in the calm, it's so clear that you could probably see all the way to the bottom of the sea."

Annie tilts her head and considers the bright blue glow of the boy's eyes. She has a feeling she already knows what the ocean looks like.

In darkness and in light.

.

One day Mina asks her what her favorite color is. It is an offhanded, curious question that holds no relevance or immediate significance. Annie's response is automatic.

The color of the ocean.

The dark haired girl lifts a bemused eyebrow, wondering just what the blonde means by the cryptic answer. Mina is familiar with the stories that Jaeger's blond friend tells, but she also knows that no one in the recruitment camp has ever actually seen the ocean.

However, things become a bit clearer when Mina catches her friend glancing in the direction of the blue-eyed, blond boy.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading, reviewing, following, and favoriting! You guys are awesome!<strong>  
>(I've had just a massive surge of people favoriting me o.O <em>ME! <em>Unbelievable! Thank you so much!)_  
><em>


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** You know this already. I unfortunately own nothing. SnK belongs to its rightful creator!  
><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Ehh, I'm not sure how I feel about this. It seems like each chapter is me focusing on another body part. What's next? The spleen?  
>I know the last references the "end" of training, but I'm going to keep going drabbles of their training. I didn't want to have to split up the first and the last drabble since they're kind of related.<br>Enjoy!

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><p>When Shadis releases the mid-marks for the 104th training regiment, all hell breaks loose.<p>

Elated shouts and muttered cursing fill the air as each teen compares his or her status. Even the sullen Mikasa looks vaguely pleased to see her name first. Rage. Embarrassment. Depression. Joy. Annie observes the predictable expressions of her peers with mild boredom.

The only reason she sticks around is to see _his _expression (she knows he isn't in the top ten—she already looked). However, the boy never checks the ranking list for himself. When he notices Annie watching him, he smiles at the girl.

_Acceptance_.

Annie can tell that he's already resigned himself to a fate that she could never willingly follow.

.

She offers no explanation as she yanks the blond away from his affronted, gape-mouthed brunet sparring partner. She offers no apologies when the blond sports more bruises than he's ever had before and he winces each time she demands another round. She offers no excuse when Eren glares at her from across the dining hall when the blond can barely lift the trembling spoon to his parted, bleeding lips from exhaustion.

He may not care whether or not he makes it into the top ten, but Annie sure as hell isn't going to allow the boy to brand himself as another one of humanity's faceless casualties. Not yet.

.

He jumps when she coughs behind him, but despite her abuse and torment, she sees no malice or fear in his eyes. He cranes a sore neck to smile warmly at her in the fading sunlight.

"I'm sorry that I can't keep up with yo—huh?" The boy breaks off disconcertedly as the girl drops a streaming towel in his lap. "Uh, wha…?"

"For the soreness," she announces before pivoting and stalking away.

His bemused thanks follow the girl as she retreats across the grounds and escapes to her cabin.

.

"Annie?"

He always addresses her with a slight lilt in his voice, as if he's asking a question. As if her name—or the girl it represents—is an enigma to him. The inquisitive tone is unsettling to her, because usually the boy knows everything. He's the only one at the camp that she can't understand. He's so human that he's inhuman.

The mystery baffles the girl and sometimes she finds herself drifting asleep only to wake without an answer.

.

They haven't even finished breakfast yet, and Annie already knows that the blond won't be able to move a muscle during sparring practice. The boy remains stiffly in place on the bench as the others get up to change.

Cool, slender fingers press gently against the boy's aching shoulder blades. His back automatically folds into the feminine hand, feeling the tension and pain leak from his sore muscles.

"Did you forget something Mika—_Annie?!"_ The boy is flustered and startled by her presence, but he isn't afraid. He starts as if to pull away, embarrassment staining his flushed cheeks. "_You really don't ha—"_

Still, the relief Annie's lithe fingers provide is too overwhelming to deny and the blond's protesting weakens as he closes his eyes in contentment. Annie can feel a faint hum rumble through his chest, though she doesn't mention it to the boy.

.

Sometime after practice, she looks down at her pale, delicate fingers for the first time in years. The girl flexes her sinewy fingers, marveling at their simplistic beauty and their hidden strength. The faintly bulbous tip of each digit still tingles from where she had ran them down his taut back and worked the pain from his muscles.

(She reminds herself that this was a onetime thing and she will _never_ ever do it again.)

Annie realizes with an unsettled frown that this is the first time in a long time she had ever used these hands for something that didn't require a fist.

.

"There was this old crone who claimed she could read palms at my village," Sasha announces that night. "She taught me how to."

"Can't it tell you who you're in love with?" Mina asks slyly, shooting her blonde friend a mischievous side look. From her bunk, Annie scoffs and rolls her eyes at the brunette's claim and Mina's implication.

"Yeah—if you look at this line right here," the brunette holds up a callused palm. Even Annie cranes her head slightly to see which wrinkled line Sasha is gesturing at.

The dark haired girl lifts an amused eyebrow when she later catches Annie studying her own palm in the faint, dying light of the full moon.

.

It becomes a sort of ritual between them. She throws punches and stern looks, hoping to convince him that he has no place in the world outside of the walls. He counters with optimistic dreams. Dreams of finally wading in the crisp ocean and of seeing the snowy white of gull plumage.

A truce is struck after each training session when Annie soothes the damage she causes to the blond boy's muscles. It is a time of reflection for the both of them. Nothing but the direst of topics breaks the content silence between the two.

.

Once the boy offers to knead the tension from Annie's stiff shoulders. Annie hesitantly allows him to breach her personal space. She even removes her faded hoodie, despite her growing sense apprehension with the sudden imbalance of intimacy.

However, it goes too far when the boy's nimble fingers trace their way gently down her exposed arms and shoulders. Goosebumps spring up on the surface of her clammy skin as an icy fire burns in the deeper veins beneath her flesh. Even when he removes his innocent, electric touch, she can still feel the energy coursing through her alert body.

She stares accusingly at his pleasant, naïve expression and pulls away without an explanation. The girl slips her hoodie back on, ignoring the boy's startled and hurt frown. She never lets him touch her again.

.

Sixteenth.

He places sixteenth.

His academic score is the highest in the history of the recruitment camp, but it isn't enough to balance out all of his physical shortcomings. He will not get the chance to join her in the Military Police.

Annie knows it's not her fault. It was the boy's weakness that kept him from the top ten. It's his fault.

Still, even as she stares at his proud, supportive face amidst the crowd of those who will share his fate, she is the one who feels like a failure.

She curls her slender fingers into hard fists. So much for trying.

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><p><strong>Thank you so much! I hope you enjoyed!<strong> I'm begging you-give me hypotheticals or prompts. I need as much inspiration as possible for these little brutes xD


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.  
><strong>Author's Note: <strong>First of all, thank you so much for all your encouraging words :D Also, thanks for the prompts! Most of them dealt with the infamous "first titan encounter" which hopefully should be showcased in the next update, which'll be rather _titanic_.  
>Please enjoy!<p>

* * *

><p>The tree branch groans as her gear digs into the bark. She can feel the tension and strain of her weight pull dangerously on the creaking tree limb, but within a microsecond, she withdraws the hook and continues her path. Anyone who weighs more than her would have plummeted to the earth.<p>

She doesn't even think about the tree branch until a glint of blond and silver catches her attention behind her. The warning rises in her throat, but no words escape her lips as the boy's hooks dig into the bark. The branch snaps with a spine-splintering _crack_ and he falls without a word.

The only sounds Annie hears are Eren calling out his name and the blood pounding in her ears.

.

Annie is the first to reach him—even before Connie, who had been twenty feet closer, or Eren. At some time during her descent, a branch scraped against her arm, but she forces the pain away and drops faster.

He is curled into an impossibly small ball by the base of the tree, his haphazardly strewn cloak concealing his face and much of his body. The branch is only feet from his impossibly still form. Annie kneels softly by his side and reaches towards the edge of his hood with hesitant fingers, dreading what gruesome sight awaits her. She pulls it back gently, watching the emergence of blond hair and maroon with bated breath.

Crimson stains the boy's pale temple and runs over his closed eye sockets, but he breathes.

She suppresses the bile rising up in her throat, feeling guilt for something that she didn't do.

.

Annie reluctantly relinquishes her close spot to the boy when Eren and Connie arrive. The two pull off the injured blond's cloak to assess further damage, thrusting the emerald and crimson garment aside. Annie mechanically bends down to pick it up, still feeling the warmth from where it had swathed the boy's prone body.

As they take the unconscious boy to the infirmary, she feels the weight of the cooled cloak heavy in her arms. The image of his tousled, weak form spinning through the air haunts her thoughts even after the nurse confirms his miraculous survival and recovery.

She rubs the thick, coarse material of the cloak between her fingers, marveling on how easily it could have become a funeral shroud instead.

.

Before she can stop herself, she reaches instinctively for the crisp, starch bandage wrapped around the boy's forehead. He blinks at her contact, but he doesn't shy away or flinch at the unusual, intimate act. Nor does he mention the slightly tremble across his temple as the girl's shaking fingers brush the fabric.

"I'm okay, Annie," the boy smiles weakly. "I'm sorry about your arm."

Annie jerks her hand away from the bandaging and rubs her upper arm subconsciously. Her injury is a mere scrape compared to his.

"Annie," the boy starts again, concern trickling into his azure eyes. "That branch snapping was just an accident—could have happened to anyone. It wasn't anyone's fault." He studies her downcast gaze a moment.

"There wasn't anything you could have done," he adds softly.

.

Fate, Annie discovers, is cruel and fickle.

Only a few weeks after the incident, Annie finds herself figuratively chained to an infirmary bed, nursing a sprained ankle. Although she refuses to divulge any details relating to her accident, rumors spread like wildfire.

Various sources claim separate causes for the girl's injury, including a legendary fight against Mikasa or an accidental kick from Jaeger during sparring.

Connie comes the closest in his claim that he saw Annie land awkwardly after elbowing a certain blond out of the way of another falling piece of debris, but the sheer preposterousness of his protective implication guarantees the boy's story becomes the furthest fetched of the rumors.

.

Few friends visit her while in the infirmary, but she doesn't mind the isolation. She always knew that the other recruits preferred to keep their distance, and she isn't surprised at the lack of concern. Mina checks up on her every other day, as do a sweaty Bertholdt and smirking Reiner. Eren shows up once, only if to ask about the status of their training matches. Annie supposes she has only herself to blame for creating such fragile alliances.

A hesitant knocking sounds at her door. The door knob turns and she wonders who might be here now. She sits up straighter, despite the ache in her ankle, and tries not to smile when the blond boy's head pokes through the door gap.

.

The next day, he brings the book.

He hopes she doesn't mind, he begins hesitantly.

He explains that he asked Mina where Annie kept his gift from all those years ago. He doesn't comment on the odd hiding spot—hidden amongst her last remnants of home and her life before under her bed—and he doesn't remark about the tattered quality of the once sturdy binding. If anything, he seems pleased at the book's obvious wear.

It proves to him that Annie was grateful for the gift in a way that surpassed the girl's terse thank you years ago.

.

She watches his delicate lips form each word and his faint eyelashes flutter each time he blinks. Usually she says nothing during these sessions, only enjoying the boy's honeyed voice as it transports the both of them to far away worlds.

A small part of her wishes that this could never end. Amidst the warm sun filtering through the window and his smooth, melodious voice, she dozes and dreams of an impossible life.

She hates waking, the jarring sense of reality that greets her in the form of his warm smile. Annie was not born for this life.

.

Once, she awakes to the glistening starlight and the glow of the crescent moon illuminating her room. As she struggles to regain her focus, her gaze alights softly on the sleeping boy beside her. His face takes on a waxy and lifeless pallor in the sick glow of the moonlight.

For a moment, Annie's disoriented mind tells her that he's dead. He's a statue. He's a figment of her imagination. In her desperation to prove this apparition is real, Annie longs to reach her hand out to touch him into her dreamlike, surreal world. She desires company in her hazy, disjointed world.

Annie waits in apprehensive terror until she summons up the courage to fling her cool fingers towards him and brush the boy's warm skin. A simple, superficial gesture, but Annie feels relieved to be anchored back to reality.

.

His hoarse voice—he has been with her for over a week, reading faithfully in a whisper no less beautiful—lowers to a tender murmur before growing silent. She feigns sleep, though she is acutely aware of his close presence that is growing closer. A shadow crosses over her barely parted eyelids. Annie resists the urge to open her eyes fully and waits with stiffened muscles for his next action.

He hesitantly touches her fair hair with curious, innocent fingertips. Despite his gentleness, Annie can feel the pressure of his action against her skin, but the sensation is oddly pleasurable. She waits for something else to happen, but the boy sits back down with a content sigh and resumes reading in his faithful, steady whisper.

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><p><strong>Thank you! <strong>Yes, as much as I loved writing about their little misadventures while at training, I feel like I must progress in the story. So, onward we go!


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.  
><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Oh, man. I'm back. Not sure how I feel about these. Some made me kind of sad...

Next set will definitely be the long awaited Battle for Trost arc. Just had to set some things up :'D

Also, I've begun to be more active on my Tumblr in terms of posting updates and secret passages of upcoming fics (for example, I'm working on another Dark!AruAni that I posted the first 1,000 words for already). I know this is shameless self-publicizing, but follow me, **macrauchenia,** on Tumblr if want more updates :D I might also start use the tag #snkmac or something like that with all of my posts relating to Shingeki no Kyojin. Like I said, shameless self-publicizing, but I thought some of you might want to know :D

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><p>She has no money, no relative to send her funds. She can't afford to waste the limited stipend each recruit receives for supplies on frivolous things. She loathes the days when they are given freedom to roam the city to buy sugared treats and new clothes. She denies herself these tiny pleasures. Sometimes she even forgoes necessities when she can't justify exchanging her worn, stained white jacket for an expensive new coat.<p>

Yet when she sees it languishing in a store window, she feels no guilt or remorse for spending her last, precious coins on the tattered, faded straw hat.

.

Annie has never given a gift before. She's not quite sure how to and she refuses to stoop low enough to ask Mina for advice. She watches from a distance as recruits present each other with small tokens of affection and wishes of safety. They're all preparing for the eventual divide between the three branches of military.

Once all she wished for was the end of training, but now she dreads the final day when she leaves, alone amongst her fellow top ten graduates.

It's a stupid, irrational belief that keeps the hat under her bed. Giving him the gift seems too much like confirming a final goodbye.

.

Only days before their final graduation, she corners him after dinner. She thrusts the hat to his chest and his limp fingers react automatically, cupping the gift gently before it can slip through his grasp.

Annie hates the hesitation in her voice and her actions and she wills her cowardly gaze to rise to meet his shocked, azure eyes.

"An-nie…?" he stutters. He's as startled as she is and his mind has yet to process the confusing situation.

"To keep you safe," the girl mutters, repeating the same oath she heard Franz murmur to Hannah. The words feel foreign on her tongue like they weren't ever meant to be said.

"H-how…?" The boy's thin fingers curl instinctively into the brim, causing the straw to crackle. When he speaks again, his voice is thick and choked with emotion.

"Thank you, Annie," he breathes, eyes bright and blue.

.

She ponders the exchange later, lying alone and quiet in the safe confines of her own bed. For some reason she can't explain, it is relief that floods her overwhelmed system. Relief that her attempt at being human wasn't rejected like every time before. Relief that she didn't have to give an answer.

She's kept awake by the boy's unanswered "how." Would she have told the truth? That she knew him before he even knew himself?

Or would she have lied like she does every time his shining eyes meet hers?

.

Sometimes the boy wears the hat. Sometimes he doesn't. Even after hours of careful observing, Annie still can't figure out why.

Once she catches Eren staring curiously at the object when it's perched upon the blond's feathered hair one night. Uncertain recognition flickers in the boy's aqua eyes at the familiar hat. Annie hears the boy ask his friend about the object and she feels a clench in her gut, dreading the inevitable moment when her kindness is exploited.

However, the blond merely smiles and shrugs, leaving his brunet friend without an answer.

Annie smiles faintly in her cup, savoring the tender secret the two share for at least one more moment.

.

_"What you got there? Some stupid hat."_

A malicious sneer. Grubby, insensitive claws reaching for the fragile brim.

Annie feels her feet move in the blond's direction before she can stop herself.

A smaller, lighter hand smacks away the talons of the assailant. She stops, eyes glued to the unfolding action.

"Don't _touch_ it," the blond's voice rings authoritatively. His brilliant eyes dare the larger male to try anything else.

Only when the thug leaves does Annie notice a change in the blond. His confident, grim-slashed expression droops to a relieved frown and furrowed brow. His trembling fingers brush against the faded brim as if he needs reassurance that it's still there.

The gift becomes more than a simple, old hat.

.

_"Do you _love_ him?"_

Annie's first reaction is to recoil at the sly question.

"What?" Her tone comes out short and curt. She's angry, but she isn't sure why. She realizes who Mina is talking about and her face darkens dangerously.

"What the hell is there to even _like_ about him?" she snarls, stalking away.

By the time she's ten paces away, she's already reached the seventh reason.

.

She hates the word.

It's jarring. It's short. And when she loosely traces the characters in the sand, she realizes how ugly it is.

Worst of all, she hates what it represents. A fleeting warmth. An empty embrace. The inevitable goodbye.

She was brought into the world under the lying guise of love, but she knows when she leaves this life, there will be nothing left to lie about.

.

Reiner finds her a day before their projected graduation date. This has been the plan all along, but for the first time Annie finds herself questioning their orders.

The blond male chalks her resignation up to nerves, clasps Bertholdt on the shoulder, and heads back towards the camp. Only the brunet seems to share Annie's mixed feelings, but he merely glances away ashamedly before following Reiner. They've already said their goodbyes. They've made their peace.

When their backs fade from view in the waning dusk light, Annie realizes that she may never get her chance to say goodbye.

.

Annie lies awake, dreading the inevitable moment when the sun rises, ushering in the dawn. She knows what will happen when the noon sun reaches its highest point.

Every muscle in her being trembles with apprehension. She wants to spring out of bed and run, run, run until she finds him.

Even if she can't reveal the truth, she still wants to hear him promise that he'll be okay in that confusedly placating voice of his. He won't know why he's swearing to be safe, but Annie will still be soothed by the words.

When she finally flips the suffocating blankets off her sweltering legs, the faint rays of morning creep under the threshold. Cool air brushes against her bare legs. She's too late.

Never before has the threatened fate of humanity felt so cold.

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><p><strong>Ouch. Well. Thank you so much for reading, reviewing, favoriting, and following! :'D<strong>


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